Don't Underestimate The Heiress

Don't Underestimate The Heiress

Gavin

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My life in Austin was comfortable, idyllic even.   My parents owned a successful chain of organic cafes, and I was five months pregnant, planning a future with Kevin, the man I thought was different.   Then, sitting in our apartment, his mom Karen watched like a hawk as Kevin slid a  "Domestic Partnership Agreement"  across the coffee table.   Its terms were chilling: I'd waive all rights to his property, any large financial gifts from my wealthy parents would become "joint assets" solely managed by him, and marriage was indefinitely deferred.   My stomach twisted.   What I thought was a loving partnership revealed itself as a calculated heist.   Karen, who cooed about baby names last week, now had eyes small and calculating, her voice flatly stating it was "to protect Kevin."   They conveniently forgot my parents paid for our entire lives.   They saw me as a naive rich girl, easily separated from her family's money.   It wasn't smart; it was a brazen attempt at extortion.   How could he, and his mother, be so utterly devoid of decency, treating me like a walking ATM?   But under the shock, a cold clarity formed.   The devastation transformed into a fierce resolve.   I wouldn't just walk away; I would make them pay.   Feigning agreement, I proposed signing their predatory document after my parents' generous baby shower gift.   Then, I called my lawyer best friend, Chloe.   "You are not going to believe what these parasites just tried to pull," I told her, knowing exactly what came next: it was time for a plan, and for them to burn.

Introduction

My life in Austin was comfortable, idyllic even.

My parents owned a successful chain of organic cafes, and I was five months pregnant, planning a future with Kevin, the man I thought was different.

Then, sitting in our apartment, his mom Karen watched like a hawk as Kevin slid a "Domestic Partnership Agreement" across the coffee table.

Its terms were chilling: I'd waive all rights to his property, any large financial gifts from my wealthy parents would become "joint assets" solely managed by him, and marriage was indefinitely deferred.

My stomach twisted.

What I thought was a loving partnership revealed itself as a calculated heist.

Karen, who cooed about baby names last week, now had eyes small and calculating, her voice flatly stating it was "to protect Kevin."

They conveniently forgot my parents paid for our entire lives.

They saw me as a naive rich girl, easily separated from her family's money.

It wasn't smart; it was a brazen attempt at extortion.

How could he, and his mother, be so utterly devoid of decency, treating me like a walking ATM?

But under the shock, a cold clarity formed.

The devastation transformed into a fierce resolve.

I wouldn't just walk away; I would make them pay.

Feigning agreement, I proposed signing their predatory document after my parents' generous baby shower gift.

Then, I called my lawyer best friend, Chloe.

"You are not going to believe what these parasites just tried to pull," I told her, knowing exactly what came next: it was time for a plan, and for them to burn.

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His Secret Son, Her Stolen Fortune

His Secret Son, Her Stolen Fortune

Short stories

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I found the document by accident. Aiden was away, and I was looking for my mother' s old earrings in the safe when my fingers brushed against a thick, unfamiliar file folder. It wasn't mine. It was the "Herrera Family Trust," and the primary beneficiary of Aiden' s massive fortune wasn't me, his wife of seven years. It was a five-year-old boy named Leo Herrera, and his legal guardian, listed as the secondary beneficiary, was Haven Herrera-my adopted sister-in-law. My family lawyer confirmed it an hour later. It was real. Ironclad. Established five years ago. The phone slipped from my hand. A cold numbness spread through me. Seven years. I had spent seven years justifying Aiden's madness, his rages, his possessiveness, believing it was a twisted part of his love. I stumbled through the cold, silent mansion to the east wing, drawn by the sound of laughter. Through the glass doors, I saw them: Aiden, bouncing Leo on his knee, Haven beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. And with them, smiling and cooing at the child, were Aiden's parents. My in-laws. They were a perfect family. "Aiden, the final transfer of the Knox assets into Leo' s trust is complete," his father said, raising a glass of champagne. "It's all airtight now." "Good," Aiden replied, his voice calm. "Charlotte's family money should have always belonged to a true Herrera heir." My inheritance. My family's legacy. Transferred to his secret son. My own money, used to secure the future of his betrayal. They had all known. They had all conspired. His rage, his paranoia, his sickness-it wasn't for everyone. It was a special hell he had reserved just for me. I backed away from the door, my body cold as ice. I ran back to our bedroom, the one we had shared for seven years, and locked the door. I looked at my reflection, at the ghost of the woman I used to be. A quiet vow formed on my lips, silent but absolute. "Aiden Herrera," I whispered to the empty room. "I will never see you again."

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